Dire Bound (The Wolves of Ruin, #1)

by Sable Sorensen

If there’s one thing I’ve learned in my twenty-three years alive, it’s this: Women in pain give men confidence. It stirs up something instinctive, deep inside them, that makes them believe they have the upper hand, even if every logical piece of evidence screams at them they do not. Confidence makes men sloppy. And sloppy men are easy targets.

“Me?” I bat my eyelashes, my voice high and sweet. “A refined lady like me would never think of something so crude as silvers. All I care about is tea and dresses and gossip.”

I’ve been saving some coin. For… a bracelet. Won’t do me any good if my intended gets herself killed scaling a mountain because she doesn’t have the right gear.” Oh. Oh. He’s been saving for an engagement bracelet.

Pls dont make me hate him

The officer I saw back in the Central Market, the one who dragged that deserter behind him. The dead-eyed psychotic killing machine.

Shes Gonna fuck him

His strangled wheeze is the most satisfying thing I’ve heard all year.

Awoman

Not me, I think. I’m not here to bond.

Famous last words

running in the moonlight, racing down the mountainside, faster than wind. A sun rising, rays blinding and beautiful. A crown, its metal glinting, then drenched in blood.

When I look at Stark, I see a calm, wicked confidence sharp as a knife, honed from endless fights and very few losses.

He’s as feral and dangerous as his direwolf.

the more generous lighting, I can make out the dark ink of his tattoos more clearly, especially now that he’s in a short-sleeved shirt. They twist around his arms and up to his neck in intricate designs. On his arms, they look runic, naturally inspired—geometric shapes hidden between chaotically elegant lines that make me think of fir forests and heavy antlers. They climb up the side of his neck and disappear beneath the curl of his dark hair behind his ear. Up higher, they almost start to look like claw marks around his throat, a collar of pain.

Im feral

“Fuck, Stark is so hot,” the first woman chokes out, slumping in her seat. I raise a brow and study Stark again. I… guess? Or, yes. It’s obvious. It’s really obvious.

PERIODT

“I would do criminal things to get that man between my legs,” the second woman whispers.

Clock it

Which means that glower is for me, then, with that slight curl of his upper lip and those narrowed eyes. Disdain.

Oh hes in love

I had no idea that baths could be like this, like anything other than a chilly race to get myself slightly clean. If I’m going to be stuck here—fighting for my life, captive to an unwanted bond—well then, I’m going to take one of these every fucking night.

Handsome appearance aside, he’s unremarkable—all the pageantry notwithstanding. Only his eyes indicate there’s more to him than his appearance suggests. Even at such a distance, I can see the keenness and cunning in his pale blue gaze. Still, just a man,

real

Crown Prince Killian descends to the balcony while I stand there frozen, my whole world crumbling around me. And then, seated at his father’s side, he lifts his head and looks right at me, dark blue eyes filled with regret. My heart cracks. Lee.

NO THE BETRAYAL

“Sure,” I grumble, “if you find murderous psychos sexy.”

Ope- should i not

“The Strategos direwolves have convened and chosen their next leader. Anassa. You are the new Strategos Alpha.”

Gosh i love a cliche

And in case my implication is not crystal fucking clear: You touch her again and I’ll cull you myself.”

OH HELL YEAH

“Meryn, what have you done?” he shudders out, stepping away from me with wide eyes, hands shaking. Then, anger. His expression contorts into fury. “Guards! Seize her! She’s killed the king!”

I hate him

That the queen is… my ancestor?

once again i love a cliche

“I’m the rightful queen of Nocturna, aren’t I?” I ask. Stark’s eyes spark, he takes a single step back, and he bows down on one knee, hand to his chest. “Welcome home, my queen.”

“Give me the word and I’ll tear out his throat. All the lives I’ve ever taken were just training for this moment, my queen. Make me your instrument of vengeance. Let my hands act out your every savage, depraved thought. Use me. I’m yours.”

Mine. My psycho asshole. My bloodthirsty killer.